


Sleeping

by olio



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 17:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olio/pseuds/olio
Summary: Sleeping together, literally.





	Sleeping

Sleep has always been Crowley’s thing. Angels and demons don’t need to sleep, of course, but he always seems to enjoy it. Aziraphale has never quite understood his fascination with sleep. He’s tried it, on and off over the millennia, but doesn’t get the appeal. He has things to do! Books to read! Why spend his time doing nothing?

But as they begin to spend more and more time together, in each other’s spaces and lives more than out, Aziraphale starts wondering again. He finds Crowley curled up in odd corners, sprawled out on couches, at a table in the bookshop with his head pillowed on a pile of books, apparently collapsed wherever he felt like it. Sometimes even while the two of them are sitting together, conversation lapsed into companionable silence, he’ll turn to find Crowley has dozed off. Aziraphale starts keeping blankets handy to cover Crowley with, trying whatever he can to make Crowley comfortable, for lack of anything else to do.

But surely Crowley must have a reason for sleeping so much. Surely he must get _something_ out of it. So Aziraphale decides.

The next time Aziraphale finds Crowley fast asleep (on a couch, somewhere comfortable—no floors for him, thank you very much), he gently nudges him over and sits down beside him. Then Aziraphale closes his eyes.

It’s awkward, at first. He’s not used to this. He becomes intensely aware of his surroundings, every creak of the building, the faint sounds of traffic from outside, and the very beating of his heart. But he wants to understand. Wants to know Crowley better, try the things Crowley enjoys. And Crowley is warm beside him, the gentle sound of his breath sighing in and out soothing. So Aziraphale relaxes, letting go of determination to allow himself peace.

Minutes later—or is it hours? Time feels…odd, disconnected, and he can’t quite tell—he opens his eyes again. And there’s Crowley, now pressed tightly to Aziraphale’s side, eyes half lidded, relaxed and fully yellow, a soft smile on his face as he watches Aziraphale. It’s gentle and cozy and _nice,_ and Aziraphale can do nothing but smile back.

Maybe Crowley does have a point. Maybe sleep is good, sometimes, as long as you have someone to share it with.


End file.
